


Under Construction

by Huntress79, sunalso



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Venice California
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22766224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/pseuds/Huntress79, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: Hollywood AU. Bucky works construction with his friend Natasha, who cajoles him into entering a contest with a top prize of a Valentine's Day "date" with Hollywood a-lister Peggy Carter, his celebrity crush. One grand prize win later, and Bucky and Peggy find they're more alike, and much more compatible, than they could have ever dreamed.Words by sunalso, Beta by Gort, Art by Huntress79
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter, Peggy Carter & Edwin Jarvis
Comments: 18
Kudos: 30
Collections: Marvel Rare Pair Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

Camera flashes popped in Peggy’s face, but she kept smiling and her eyes open. It saved time if most of the shots the circling--well, vultures was too nice a word and an insult to a magnificent creature—photographers took weren’t marred by her having the audacity to blink. 

The red carpet walk no longer excited her. She’d been through the process so many times that it felt routine to spend hours getting ready, wear things her stylist had picked or commissioned, and then chitter and fake-laugh with other Hollywood stars and the rich arseholes that ruled the world with their money. 

It was a wonder she hadn’t completely lost her mind. 

Acting had been a lark in college while she figured out her major, something one of her friends had been into. Then there’d been a small part in a West End play, and somehow now she lived in California and pretended she adored everyone she met. 

Once through the gauntlet of reporters and photographers, she found her seat for the movie premiere. It wasn’t even her movie. She’d been in the previous feature in the series, but they hadn’t needed her character for this one. Not a surprise, love interests for male characters were changed more regularly than underwear. 

She sat next to a woman who gushed over her for a moment, then promptly ignored her to talk to the man on the other side, who’d been in the film for all of two seconds. Typical. The other seat, between her and the aisle, she’d asked to be occupied by her assistant. 

Jarvis trotted down from where he’d been waiting and took the spot. 

“I’ve just confirmed everything for tomorrow night,” he said. “Open Path is being very accommodating.” 

“Will it be less full of vampires than here?” she asked, glancing around the theater with its ornate interior and crowd of bigwigs. 

“People who would sell their own mother for a dollar are everywhere,” he said dismissively as he poked at his tablet. “Though I’m sorry Mr. Stark couldn’t be here to escort you. He did offer Tony.” 

She wrinkled her nose. “And I refused. I wanted conversation, not to be ignored while everyone falls over themselves to impress Tony.” 

Jarvis shook his head, then passed her the tablet. Obviously, the discussion about her old family friends with their bottomless bank accounts was finished. She’d stolen Jarvis fair and square from Howard and didn’t know what she’d do without his help. He kept her life with all its endless complications running smoothly. 

“What am I looking at?” she asked. 

Jarvis scrolled through her schedule, with its blocks for working out and meetings with her agent, to tap on a picture. The dress, pink and frothy, and the sky-high black shoes, all looked like she’d hate them. “For tomorrow.” 

The dress cost a fortune, but the designer had lent it to her for the night, and she couldn’t say no if she wanted them to continue dressing her. 

“Fine.” She handed the tablet back. “Now please tell me what inane things I’m supposed to say after I watch the film because heaven forbid I have my own opinions.” 

Sometimes she wished she could choose one thing, just one, for herself. 

* * *

Bucky wiped the sweat trickling down his forehead with his sleeve. He’d opened the collar and rolled the sleeve up his right arm. The left had started out pinned up high to not interfere with the work-a-day hooked prosthetic he used on the job. Perched on the half-finished roof of yet another high dollar house crowding out the hippy atmosphere of old Venice, California, he could see the sunlight glimmering off the not so distant ocean. Which should send a breeze his way once in a while, but so far had been a disappointment. For February, it was damned hot. 

Back in Brooklyn, winter would still be in full sway, gray and damp. There were reasons he’d picked Los Angeles after his medical discharge. 

Bucky set a nail with the hooks of his left arm prosthesis and brought the hammer down on the nail, driving it home. Construction work was good for the soul. And for the not thinking. Thinking usually didn’t end well for him. 

Another nail, another, another—

“Hey, dickhead,” Nat called up at him. “Get down and come stuff your face.” She waved her cell phone at him. “And hurry, you need to do this.” She turned, her red hair swinging, and headed for where a canopy had been set up for shade. 

“What do I need to do?” he called after her, but she just flipped him off. Typical. Nat was more family than he’d had in a long time, and everyone they worked with thought they were related, even though they looked nothing alike. Though if he didn’t cut his hair soon, he’d be able to braid it like her. 

Sighing, Bucky lowered himself on the beam with his right hand, dropping to the unfinished floor with a thud. Setting aside his toolbelt, he fished his lunch bag out of the cooler and went to join the rest of the crew under the canopy. 

Nat waited until he’d taken a giant bite of his sandwich to lean over to him. “There’s a contest closing today that I know you’ll want to enter.” 

“A contest?” 

“Twenty bucks entry fee.” 

He swallowed the PB & J. “I can play the lottery for a buck.” Not that he ever did. Construction didn’t pay well enough for him to have a lot of spare change in southern California. But Nat’s eyes were gleaming and her smile wide. “Okay, fine, why do you think I’d want to enter?” 

“It’s a charity event to raise money for group homes for disabled teens.” 

“Yeah, cool.” He took another bite of sandwich. He did what he could for places like that, usually volunteering his time. He didn’t regret his stint in the Army, but building things to help others helped keep some of the shadows at bay that still haunted him. “But you’re grinning. Which means you’ve got an ace up your sleeve you’re going to use to make fun of me in a moment.” 

Nat laughed. “It’s like you know me. Fine. The top prize is a Valentine’s Day date with one Peggy Carter.” 

The peanut butter in his mouth nearly choked him. “What?” he wheezed out between coughs. “Why do you think I’d care about that?” 

She rolled her eyes. “The pictures stuck up in your locker, the fact you own every one of her movies on Blu-Ray, even the one she’s in for two seconds, and the fact that your phone’s background is a picture of her.” 

“I like the plot of that film. Lots of good plot, for a historical.” He busied himself with very carefully opening a bag of chips. 

Nat snorted. “Sure, that’s why you chose a shot looking down the front of her shirt.” 

He met Nat’s eyes and put a chip in his mouth, crunching it very loudly. She didn’t flinch, just looked smug. Peggy Carter had a killer set of tits. He liked looking at them, along with the rest of her. Her voice with its English accent flowed like whiskey, and it was easy to have a crush on her because there was zero chance he’d meet her. After rehabbing from the IED blast that’d ended his army career, he hadn’t felt like trying to be the lady’s man he’d once been. 

Pitying glances at his arm were not a turn on. 

Even entering the contest there would still be zero chance. The best-case scenario would be he’d sit down to dinner with Peggy and tell her how much she’d meant to him during his recovery. That sometimes making it to her next interview or movie had been what kept him going. His first erection after the pain meds had let go of their chokehold on him had been while watching one of her flicks. Well, he wouldn’t want to tell her that part, but Bucky still felt grateful. 

He made a face at Nat. 

“I love when I know I’m right.” She tapped her phone’s screen. “I’m sending you a link right now.” 

“I’m not going to win. I just like helping the kids.” 

Nat’s face softened. “I know you won’t win either, but I thought it’d be a fun thing to enter. You need fun once in a while.” 

He grunted as he unlocked his screen—damn, he liked that picture—and clicked on the link. The contest closed in a few hours and the winner would be drawn live that night. There were several other donated prizes but he didn’t bother looking at them. And he wouldn’t win, anyway. 

Bucky filled out the form, agreed to the conditions, entered his card number, and hit the ‘donate’ button. 

“Thanks for telling me,” he said to Nat as he put his phone down so he could continue eating. His work prosthesis wasn’t great for things like eating. 

She sipped her fruit punch from its pouch, eating like a five-year-old like always. She had her own war stories, most of which he didn’t know, but he did know she’d been stuck places for days with little to eat or drink and that now she had whatever she damned well pleased. “You’re welcome, and when you don’t win, let’s make plans to go to some club that night.” 

He looked at her while she calmly continued sipping. “Was that your plan this entire time? I’d lose and then you could finally cajole me out the door?” 

Her shoulder lifted and fell. 

“Damn it.” He scowled. “Fine. When I don’t win, I’ll let you dress me up and parade me around like a sheep for sale.” 

“You’ll like it.” 

“I will not.” 

* * *

“Five minutes, ma’am,” Jarvis said, looking around the corner where Peggy had hidden so she could be off her feet for five seconds. The pumps her stylist had put her in were doing a number on her feet. 

Gingerly, she slipped them back on and took Jarvis’ offered hand as he helped her to stand. 

“Why did I agree to this again?” she asked. 

“I believe you reached out to them when the charity asked for prize donations. And since they’ve raised nearly ten million dollars, excellent job.” 

She gave him a small smile. “Nice way of telling me I did it to myself.” She stretched her shoulders and checked her hair in the mirror of her compact. “I’m just nervous. I hope it’s not some guy who’s going to drool on me the entire time while talking about my feet.” 

A sound came from her assistant that sounded a lot like a smothered chuckle. “I promise that the winner will be properly vetted and have the riot act read to them, and if they say anything untoward it’s your right to immediately leave. But I’m sure it will go well.” 

“It’s not like I’m doing anything else that day.” Dating and being a celebrity did not go together. Trusting somebody’s attention when you had fame and fortune on your side was impossible and she’d stopped trying. Her only relationships in the last few years had been contracted ones with set start and end dates, designed to bolster both her and the men’s careers. 

They’d done as designed, though it meant she hadn’t had more than a public peck on the cheek for that long. Nobody to hold her tight, laugh with over shared jokes, or like her for something besides what she could give them. Things like this, supporting a good cause, at least let her do something valuable with her influence. 

Straightening her back and holding her chin high, Peggy walked back out to the main floor of the event. She passed her security, who trailed behind her as she made her way to where the director of the charity, a middle-aged woman with purple hair and a cat tattoo, spoke of the challenges providing safe residences for young people always entailed, but which increased a thousandfold when you need to accommodate for a range of disabilities and mobility aids.

Peggy waited, shifting her weight in her hideously expensive and uncomfortable posh shoes until she was called to the microphone. Flashes popped as she took center stage. 

“Thank you to everyone for donating,” she said, speaking to the camera. “Housing for young people with significant physical disabilities that need a home in Los Angeles is an ever-increasing challenge. For one such home, this event came too late, their rent increased too much too fast.” She paused for the expected sounds of sympathy, even though the people in the ballroom had probably bought homes in the quickly gentrifying areas she meant. “But with the funds raised from this auction a new home for that center will be built and other places will be saved. I’m honored to be a small part of that, and I hope that people will be inspired to donate time and money to aiding Open Path beyond this event.”

She smiled her biggest, camera-ready smile. 

“Time to announce the winners,” the director said, waving Peggy aside. She nodded and did her best to blend into the background as the other prize winners were read out. What they won ranged from a dinner for two at a casual dining restaurant to sky diving lessons. 

As the grand prize, the dinner with Peggy had to wait until the very end to be announced. 

Ignoring her feet, since it wasn’t acceptable behavior to chew them off at the ankle no matter how much they hurt, Peggy put her smile back in place and strode forward when called. 

She took the slip of paper.  _ Please don’t be a creep. _ “The winner of the Valentine’s Day date with me is…” Peggy paused, wet her lips, and held up the paper. “James Buchanan Barnes.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“How’s my hair?” Bucky asked, glancing at Nat’s reflection in the full-length mirror. She stood in the corner of his room, her face unreadable, as he got ready for the impossible date. It still hadn’t sunk in. Peggy Carter would be here in just over an hour. In a limo. To have dinner with him. 

Natasha hadn’t even been mad that she didn’t get to drag him out to sit on a barstool. Bucky had a date on Valentine's Day. Well, not a real date. He’d had to sign approximately a million documents that declared what he could and could not say or do around Ms. Carter. There’d been releases for publicity photos, and NDA agreements. Bucky would be meeting with her assistant before and after the “date” to make sure Bucky didn’t mess up the rules. His cell phone couldn’t go with him. He’d be given pictures. 

It was a lot of rigamarole for the hour of time he’d be spending in the company of one Miss Peggy Carter. 

“Breathe,” Nat said, patting his shoulder before flicking what he hoped was dust off his shoulder. 

“I am breathing.” Not quite a lie. 

“Your hair looks great.” 

He waggled his head back and forth. She’d talked him into leaving it down, saying it gave him a certain air. Bucky had no idea what kind of air that was supposed to be. Motorcycle gang member? Professional cage fighter? But he trusted Nat to steer him right. 

He patted the front of his snowy white dress shirt. He had on a nice set of dark grey slacks and a matching suit jacket. No tie. He was worried the fancy restaurant would require one, but Natasha had insisted that the place wouldn’t turn him and Peggy away no matter what he wore. 

He couldn’t even imagine how she’d be dressed. Hopefully not in something super casual, or the suit and cufflinks would be a waste. 

“Stop overthinking,” Nat chided. She straightened his collar. “You get to say thanks, she’ll thank you for your service in the Army, it’ll be more stilted conversation about the weather, and then it’ll be over.” 

“I’m sure I’ll manage weather conversation.” 

“Don’t talk to her boobs,” Nat said dryly. “That’ll help.” 

“Thanks for the advice. Per the guidelines, is there a minimum and maximum amount of breast ogling that’s prescribed?” 

She swatted his shoulder. “I’m sure you can take a look without being obvious. Try not to appear too bored when she discusses her dress’ designer or the latest fad diet.” 

He hoped he could. Fifteen seconds once was all the time he’d allotted himself to stare at Ms. Carter’s magnificent, possibly lifesaving, work-of-art chest. Her boobs should be a world heritage site. 

“Stop thinking about her tits,” Nat said, and he groaned before inspecting his shirt in the mirror again. “Quit, the straps don’t show. That piece of Stark tech is amazing.” 

Bucky had the fancy prosthetic on that the Army had given him as a sort of “sorry you lost your limb” gift. It worked scarily well, the hand, while looking mechanical, responded well to electrical impulses in his shoulder. They operated with enough precision that he could catch a ball, write, or pick up a glass. Rehab after losing his arm had been torture, and the payout of being able to have a fancy new limb that mostly served to make other people comfortable and forget about his disability usually didn’t seem worth the pain. 

Until now. He didn’t want Peggy to look at him and see nothing but his missing arm. Pity in her eyes would crush him. Which meant the harness of the Stark prosthetic, with its slim profile, was needed. For the first time in a long while, Bucky wanted the easy confidence he’d once had what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Breathe,” Nat whispered, a hand on his arm. 

A knock at the door made him jump, but Natasha only rolled her eyes and answered it. Ms. Carter’s personal assistant, a very uptight looking man improbably named Jarvis, entered the house. He looked around the small apartment, his gaze lingering on the movie posters Bucky had framed and hanging over the couch. They were all Peggy’s movies, of course. 

Jarvis nodded. “Excellent choice of entertainment, Mr. Barnes.” 

“Bucky will do.” 

“Of course, Mr. Barnes.” 

Nat hid her laughter behind her hand. 

Jarvis ignored her as he studied Bucky. “You appear to be an excellent choice as well,” Jarvis said. “I thought Ms. Carter rash in her choice of what to donate as a prize. I think we have been lucky in getting a decorated war hero.” 

Bucky planted his rear on the couch. It seemed like this conversation, or lecture, more accurately, might take a while. He waved his left hand. “Don’t forget wounded.” 

“Quite right. Ms. Carter will no doubt thank you for your service several times. The first will most likely be genuine, that others will be for show.” 

“Got it.” 

“There’s going to be a lot of publicity around this hour you spend together, Mr. Barnes.” Jarvis fixed Bucky with a glare. “Both official and the less savory, tabloid kind.” 

“There’s no stopping the vultures,” Nat said. 

“Quite right Ms…” Jarvis raised a brow at her. 

“Romanov.” 

Jarvis pulled out a cell phone. “Are you Mr. Barnes's girlfriend? He did not inform us about you in the initial questionnaire sent.”

“If she was, she wouldn’t be now after you said that.” Bucky grinned at Jarvis’ weathering look. It was a fair question, Jarvis couldn’t know that he and Nat didn’t rub each other the right way for sex. People never seemed to understand. “She’s like my sister,” he said. People did usually get that. 

Jarvis hummed and tapped something on his phone. “The most important thing to remember is no touching Ms. Carter.” 

“I’m not an animal.” 

“Noted. I have found that people lie. This rule is inviolable. She might touch your hand briefly, or put an arm low down on your back for photos. You do not reach out. You do not touch her. If you put an arm around her for a photo, do not place your palm or fingers on her. If you don’t obey this rule, the date will be terminated immediately. There are security personnel available, even during the limo ride.” 

“Understood.” He wondered if he’d be let within ten feet of her. Bucky rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

Jarvis barely blinked. “We’re now going to go through a list of approved topics of conversation.” 

Nat crossed her arms and leaned against the wall while Bucky attempted a smile. This was so much fun. 

* * *

Peggy wiggled on the soft, white leather seat of the limo. Her dress, with its soft pink fabric that clung to her breasts and fell to her knees in sheer layers, was not as comfortable as it looked. The lining made her itch, and the built-in bra didn’t work for anyone with more than an A cup. 

Jarvis had texted her several times that her date was polite enough and would behave. She hoped he appreciated the dress. An itch crawled across her back. Whatever the bodice had been lined with didn’t feel pleasant. Her feet already hated the shoes she had on. 

The door to the limo opened, and Peggy straightened up, crossed her legs, and pasted on a smile meant to appear welcoming. 

The man who got in and sat opposite her didn’t look much like the few pictures Jarvis had given her from his social media. His hair was longer, scruff gave his jaw an edge, and his light eyes—the color impossible to tell in the limo—were intense. 

He shifted in his seat, set his hands on his thighs, and took a deep breath that made his impressive shoulders even wider for a moment. A tiny thread of unwanted heat unspooled in her belly. Bloody hell. She couldn’t be attracted to him. Beautiful people were a dime a dozen in Los Angeles. 

“Hello, Mr. Barnes. I’m glad to meet you. I’m Peggy Carter. I’m very grateful for the donation you made to help Open Path, and I am pleased I get to thank you in person.” She held her hand out. 

“Bucky, if you don’t mind,” he said, a New York accent coloring his voice. A lopsided smile transformed his face. 

Oh dear. He wasn’t just handsome, he was cute. 

His fingers closed around the tips of hers and he gave a small squeeze before letting go. The brief touch had warmth racing up her arm. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Carter. My friend Natasha talked me into entering, mostly so she could drag me out to some watering hole tonight. You’ve saved me from spending a night sitting on an uncomfortable bar stool and sipping warm beer.” 

“Oh, you’re welcome. I can’t imagine you wouldn’t quickly have someone to talk to.” Peggy rested her hands in her lap. Women must fall all over him constantly. 

Bucky shrugged. “I’m not great company most of the time, and this is its own deterrent.” He held up his prosthetic, waving the obviously metallic fingers of the hand. The tech looked familiar and she leaned forward. 

“Is that Stark-tech?” she asked. 

He looked surprised, dropping it down and settling the hand of the other arm over it. “Yes, I’m kind of an experiment for them. It’s a prototype.” His brows drew together. 

“I can’t imagine that’s been fun, do you report in often?” she asked, settling back against the limo’s seat. 

Bucky looked even more puzzled. “Once a week.” 

“I’m surprised that’s all. I know Howard and Tony, I have for quite a while. I’m well aware of how tenacious they can be about an idea.” 

“I’m not surprised you know them,” he said with a laugh. “If they ask, I’m telling the truth on my reports. It’s good tech, fits well, and costs too much for me to wear at work.” 

The knot of worry about the evening she’d been carrying loosened. Bucky was nice. His eyes had barely strayed to her chest, and he seemed easy enough to talk to. She relaxed against the seat, resisting the urge to scratch her back against it like a bear did with a tree. “I’ll let them know,” she said. “Now, what’s your favorite movie of mine?” 

Bucky leaned back as well and crossed his legs, resting an ankle on his knee. “One of the approved conversation topics.” 

She laughed. “I’m sorry it’s all so scripted.” 

His face softened. “I imagine your whole life is like that. Can’t be easy. Thanks for doing this, those homes need that money.”

“They do, one closed in Venice not long ago. The rent went sky-high on the place.” 

Bucky snorted. “Those bastards knew what they were doing.” He made a face. “Anyway, to answer your question, I like all of them. Don’t make me pick one. I owe you a lot. Your work helped me get through, after…” He trailed off and the fingers of his prosthetic wiggled. 

“After,” she said, understanding. “And I’m glad I could help. I always hope what I’m part of creating has some kind of meaning beyond whatever money it makes.” 

His lopsided smile returned, maybe a little shier this time. “It feels unbelievable I got to tell you that.” 

“Thank you.” It was impossible not to smile back. “Though I should warn you that you might not like this so much when we get to the restaurant.” She fought to keep her shoulders from hunching. “The paparazzi can be positively vile. They’re going to say things, probably sexual things, to me, to you. Ask questions. Please just ignore them. We have a private dining area and once we’re inside, there will only be the sanctioned cameras.” 

He grimaced but nodded. “I’m sorry you have to put up with that.” 

The itching returned and the smile she wore felt more strained. “It’s part of the job. I have money, fame, and this is an official event on my calendar. Nothing personal. Cameras are expected.” 

“I’m glad it’s not personal. I’d probably drop dead if you called this a date.” 

She laughed in surprise. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I’m just stating a fact.” He winked at her.  _ Winked. _

To her horror, she giggled, raising her hand she tried to play it off as a cough, but Bucky’s eyes were sparkling, and she knew she’d been caught. 

“Seriously, though, you want me to punch one of these paps for you? I can chalk it up to being an uncouth not-a-star. If I use my left, I can even say I never touched the loser.”

“That’s very chivalrous.” Peggy wouldn’t mind seeing him punch something, though not any of the freelancers that congregated around her. Bucky moved in a way that spoke of real strength that he knew how to use. It was what most of her leading men pretended to have, but never quite got right. “However, they’re just doing their jobs. No punching needed. We’ll run inside, get a few photos, and have dinner.” 

Tension pricked along her spine, along with the itching from her dress. She pushed her shoulder blades back against the seat.

He nodded. “Sounds nice. Let me know if you change your mind.” 

* * *

He’d wound up in deep shit. Peggy Carter in person was a million times more gorgeous than on film. Her dress, which she obviously didn’t have a bra on under, did a remarkable job of framing her breasts. Of the original fifteen seconds of ogling, he’d already used eight. 

The worst part was that Peggy herself was fun and sweet. She’d recognized the make of his arm, and of course she knew the Starks. Probably had Tony on speed dial for when she needed someone in her bed. Bucky would bet his other arm she made the most fantastic noises when she came. This real person, sitting across from him, trying desperately not to scratch her back. He couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t, and he couldn’t offer to do it because Jarvis would rip his head off and carry it on a pike around downtown as a warning. Bucky though that might actually have been printed on one of the papers he’d signed. 

The limo glided to a stop outside the restaurant. There were a lot of people with cameras. A whole lot. 

A couple of men with thick necks exited the front of the limo to join a security detail that had already formed a path for him and Peggy through the crush of the crowd. Bucky glanced at Peggy. She had the blandest smile on her face and her shoulders rose and dropped a few times. Like she was forcing herself to appear calm. 

“You okay?” he asked in a low voice. 

“Fine,” she said, voice carefully modulated. “This happens all the time. Let's get on with it, shall we.” 

He frowned, but then one of her security detail opened the door to the limo and Bucky had to step out. Turning, he gave Peggy his hand, and her grip around his fingers nearly crushed them, even though her expression remained placid. Bucky wanted to shield her from all of it. The noise and flashes. He didn’t care for it himself, and obviously Peggy knew how to handle it, but he knew she was performing. Her calm was an act. He wanted to scoop her up and carry her inside, but it was part of her job to face this. She’d be okay. 

Bucky let go and they started down the clear path, the paps yelling questions and snapping photos. The questions were easy to ignore. A few were lewd. All seemed to roll off Peggy, who strode forward like a gladiator. It was sexy as hell. 

“Hey.” An oily looking man shoved a microphone in her face. “You planning to suck this guy’s dick?” 

“Excuse me,” Peggy said while Bucky shot the idiot a glare. 

“I hear,” the guy said, leaning forward. “That’s what your cousin’s doing with your old flame.” 

Peggy’s shoulders tightened. She didn’t respond, just caught Bucky’s wrist and dragged him inside. The restaurant doors closed behind them and Jarvis appeared to direct them to the private room. The air of the place hung heavy with the scents of garlic and pesto. 

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky asked. Peggy looked pale, and the smile she attempted looked faker than any of the other ones she’d used so far. He shared a glance with Jarvis. 

“It’s nothing,” Peggy said. “Though I should have taken your offer on punching someone, Bucky. That weasel shows up every once in a while and reminds me that I got stood up by someone. You probably know the details.” She waved a hand. Bucky did know the ins and outs, it’d been plastered in every paper for a while, but not recently. She’d dated a handful of guys since that one. 

“You loved him?” Bucky asked. 

“I thought so,” she said. “It doesn’t matter now. We should sit, and order, and…” 

He hated how upset she looked, and how hard she tried to hide it. Hated even more he hadn’t been able to protect her. “Do you want to get out of here?” He turned to Jarvis. “Can you get her home? I don’t need this date, not when it’s Valentine’s and it’s hard for Ms. Carter. She doesn’t need to be ‘on’ for another hour or two in order to make me feel good. I got to say thanks for being awesome, that’s all I wanted.” 

Jarvis bowed his head. “It’s not quite that easy. An A list celebrity doesn’t just slip away from anywhere.” 

“Do you want to go?” Bucky asked, looking at her. Damn, it hit him like a truck. He’d do anything for her. She was strong. Beyond strong. She didn’t need anybody, but she deserved to be put first by somebody. 

She lifted her chin. “I’m absolutely fine.” 

“I didn’t ask that. I asked if you wanted to get out of here.” 

“Well, then, yes.” 

“Right.” He pulled his mobile out and turned the power on, meeting Jarvis’ eyes and holding up a hand towards him as he started to speak. “I’ve got this. I didn’t sit on a base when I served this country.” 

Jarvis met Peggy’s gaze, then nodded. “Let me know what you need.” 

The phone rang one before Natasha picked up. “Nat, it’s me.” 

“Everything okay?” 

“Change in plans. I need an extraction with special cargo.” 

“Timeframe?” 

“Now.”

“I’ll text in three minutes,” she said and hung up. 

“A man of many talents.” Peggy looked impressed, and he fought not to preen. Now wasn’t the time. 

“Jarvis, we’ll probably be going out the side entrance. Try to clear it. Peggy, let’s take a snap or two with the sanctioned cameras, then you ask to go to the bathroom. They’re not going to care what I do.” 

It took only a few minutes for the official photographer to position Bucky and Peggy in a pose that reminded Bucky of a prom photo. He carefully kept his hands to himself, though from behind Peggy, he could see a faint red mark from how her dress was bothering her. 

Bucky imagined the white walls of his post-IED hospital room to keep himself from soothing her itch. 

His phone beeped. Nat had everything set. Side door, text her when they were ready. There’d be a cue and then they’d have thirty seconds to egress. He whispered as much in Peggy’s ear as the photographer took a few more shots. 

As soon as the camera disappeared, Peggy headed for what she charmingly called the loo. Bucky slid around waiters, saying it was going to find Jarvis to ask about the menu. As he suspected, nobody tried to stop him. 

Peggy opened the door to the bathroom to his knock, which was the same moment he texted Nat. An explosion went off somewhere close, followed by the sound of water hitting the roof. Ignoring the clamor of guests and staff, Bucky waved Peggy down the hallway to the door. Outside, Nat pulled up her plain gray sedan and Peggy jumped in the back seat, while Bucky fit himself into the front passenger seat. 

Nat threw the car into reverse and went back the way she’d come. Once on the street, she made a left at the next corner, then a right, checking for tails. 

“Thank you,” Peggy said after another turn. 

“I don’t think we’re being followed.” Natasha’s voice was all business. “Do you want me to take you home? Can the paparazzi track you?” 

“Jarvis has my phone, nobody will know where I am. I haven’t had a day off in…a while.” The relief in her voice made Bucky’s chest ache. “I don’t think,” she continued. “I don’t think I want to go back to my place. I’d…I’d like to go to Mr. Barnes’s flat. He owes me dinner.” 

Bucky coughed. “What?” His heart rate, which had been perfectly calm since offering Peggy a way out, took off like a galloping mustang. 

Nat grinned wide. “Sure, Princess. Great idea.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Peggy’s Pad Thai was limp in its Styrofoam takeaway container. If there were any peanuts, she couldn’t see them, and it mostly tasted of spice, but she hardly cared. She sat across from Buck on the floor, his simple coffee table between them, howling with laughter as he told her a story about a building site mismeasurement and how they’d ended up building around the error.

“We all lived in fear for months that the weasel who’d hired us would show up and demand a rebuild, but he never did,” Bucky concluded before wrapping his lips around the mouth of his beer bottle and tilting his head back to take a drink.

Peggy tried not to stare.

Bucky was charming. She felt charmed. He’d ditched his suit jacket and a few more buttons at the top of his shirt had been undone, revealing tanned skin and the flat planes of his chest. A little hair even dusted them, begging her to feel it crinkle under her fingers.

“So tell me what you’ve been working on?” he asked, setting his beer down and grabbing a spring roll.

“Um, not sure what you wouldn’t have heard about. I’ve got a movie in post and one in pre-production. There’s my charity work.”

“Why this charity?”

“It seemed like something I could directly affect. I’ve quietly donated several million dollars, besides being part of the raffle.”

“Do you have a kid in your life with a disability?” He held up his prosthetic arm.

“No. In my circles disability…we don’t consider it much. There’s rather a culture of needing to constantly improve.” It was a hamster wheel of pretty and wealthy people giving everything they had to be even prettier and wealthier.

“Ah, I’ve heard this. Maybe I should try the power of positive thinking to overcome the loss of an arm.”

Peggy ducked her head. “It’s far too much like that, and kids who need prosthetics or wheelchairs, money going there makes a difference. I’ve even pulled the Starks into this, they’re working on making things that are easy to fix, because kids are hard on everything. And they’re not taking a penny for it.”

“Good for them,” Bucky said. “I know Los Angeles can be expensive for places to keep their door open.”

“Yes, especially because places that are affordable keep getting mowed down to make room for posh mansions that house one family in the same space that used to have a dozen small apartments.” She could talk about gentrification for ages. Her parent’s little fish and chip place in London had been a victim. They hadn’t reopened, opting to retire instead. Peggy made sure they lived comfortably.

“It’s a shame.”

“It is. One recently got booted out in Venice. That part of town used to be such a hippy enclave.”

“And now it’s multi-million dollar homes.”

“Exactly. This one was close to the library. They’re putting up a house for some nob there now, who didn’t care what happened to the kids who lost their home.”

“Typical.”

“We’re not all bad.” She glanced around the spartan living room of his flat. A few posters hung in frames, all movies she’d starred in. Blu-rays of her films sat on a shelf beside photos of the New York skyline.

Bucky shrugged. “Agreed. At least you’re giving back.”

“I try.”

They both ate a few more bites before Bucky cleared away the takeaway. While he put the rubbish in his bin, she stood and went to look at his stereo system. It appeared to be twenty years out of date. There were CDs in their jewel cases stacked around it, mostly American rock bands. Some jazz and, surprisingly, a few big band compilations.

She put one of those in the tray, swaying in her tight dress as the music swelled. The itch, that’d subsided, returned with a vengeance right between her shoulder blades. Bloody hell.

Bucky returned, swiping his hair out of his eyes. “Nice choice of tunes.”

“Thank you.” She needed a distraction before she succumbed to rolling around like a dog on the floor to scratch. She didn’t want Bucky’s opinion of her to diminish because she couldn’t behave. “Dance with me?” she held out a hand. He looked at it like it might turn into a snake at any second. “It was in the date contract. A dance. I’d still like that.”

He blushed, then took a step closer.

“You’re sure?” he asked, more to the floor than her. Peggy considered it. Bucky had been sweet, a gentleman, even though she’d invited herself into his house. It might not be a great idea, she’d been battling her attraction to him the entire night, and dancing would let her smell him. Feel his body heat.

She hadn’t come here because she’d had a desire for Thai food.

“I’m sure.” Peggy closed the distance between them and settled her hands on his shoulders, continuing to move with the music. Her toes curled and she wanted to fall into Bucky’s arms in a way she hadn’t done with anyone for years. “Very sure.”

* * *

Bucky swayed gently, trying not to so much as breathe too hard on Peggy’s hair. Her hands were twin spots of burning warmth on his shoulders, sending fire racing through his veins. Keeping his hands to himself, only hovering them over her hips, was sweet torture. The heat of her body seared his palm.

“Bucky,” she said softly. “You’re not touching me.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Was she trying to kill him? His jaw clenched. “I signed a bunch of papers and swore up and down that I wouldn’t. So I’m not.”

“Oh.” Her face rose until their gazes met.

Death. He needed death.

“Do you want to? Touch me?”

Bucky groaned. “Don’t make me answer that.”

A cat that ate the canary grin spread over Peggy’s face. “Well, those rules were my rules. I absolve you of having to follow them. Touch me.”

He froze, his feet rooted in place and his muscles unable to move. He had to have misunderstood. Clearing his  throat , he forced words out. “Ms. Carter?”

“Peggy,” she said softly, guiding his prosthetic hand to her hip. He willed the fingers to close softly, watching in fascination as his hand curled around her lush curve, the metal dark against the pink of her dress. She took his other hand and instead of aiming it for her other side, she raised it, placing it over her breast. Her nipple tightened and pushed into his palm as her breath caught.

He tilted his wrist, cupping her tit harder, and she let out a small moan that slammed into his chest and headed straight for his cock. Peggy squirmed and stopped moving.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes, well, no. It’s this damned dress. It keeps making my back itch.”

Bucky’s hand slid from her breast around her side to her back, where he scratched. Peggy groaned and leaned against his chest. “Bit lower. Pull the zipper down some.”

Trying not to think about how he was undressing Peggy Carter, Bucky found the zipper’s tab and yanked it down. He pushed his hand in and continued scratching.

Her noises of enjoyment made him rock hard, and there was no way she couldn’t feel his erection with how she was molded against his front.

He flattened his palm against her back. “I think you—” He swallowed and tried again. “I think you should know I want to do much more than touch you.” She hummed an agreement. “Peggy, can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she whispered her head tilting back, her top teeth catching the bottom lip for a moment before her mouth opened just enough to welcome him. Bucky fitted his lips to hers as his prosthetic hand tugged her closer to him, the move was rough, not thought through because it was mostly subconscious desire.

Peggy moaned into his mouth, her tongue gliding against his as hands grabbed his ass and her hips ground against him. His cock threatened the integrity of his pants as it fought to get to the one woman he’d desired since he’d returned stateside.

This couldn’t be happening. He could not be kneading Peggy Carter’s tit as she humped against him. It had to be a dream. The wet kind.

“More,” she said, her voice breathless as she gripped his ass. “You feel so good.”

It couldn’t be real. He tore his hand from her body and pushed her back a step. She looked wanton, her hair mussed, her lips swollen, her eyes hooded and hazy with desire. Her nipples stood out, pressing against the front of her dress as she panted.

Fuck, this was real.

“More,” Peggy demanded, kicking off her heels. He palmed his erection, and her eyes followed the motion of his hand. Her eyes widened. “Now.”

‘Impatient.”

“I haven’t had sex in three years.”

He snorted. “What?”

“The relationships are for show. I haven’t since…Never mind. I want you.” She pulled at her dress until it fell around her ankles, leaving her in nothing but her panties.

What a lot to take in at once, and damn, those supposed topless photos he’d seen of her must have been photoshopped because they didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Her nipples were a perfect dark peach, large and begging for him. “I haven’t since—” he jerked his chin towards his arm. “Don’t think I can do nice right now. Nobody’s gotten my dick hard except you in years.”

Peggy mewled and rubbed her fingers between her legs. “More.”

He collided with her, his hips leading, pushing her back against the wall. His hand closed around her throat as his lips claimed hers. His left arm hung at his side, and Peggy grabbed his sleeve, clinging to him as he ground against her.

This ride he found himself on? He hoped it never stopped.

* * *

Desire burned through her veins and dripped down her thighs.

Peggy thrived on control, but it’d only taken a few hours with Bucky for him to strip away all her defenses, along with her clothes. His mouth plundered, his lips hard and demanding on hers.

The hand not on his arm, which kept her upright, she used to tug at his shirt. “Let me see,” she said, fumbling with a button. He felt like iron under her palm and she imagined he looked as good as he felt.

Something flashed in his eyes. “You sure?” He stripped off his shirt, and the sight of his defined pecs and abs that narrowed to his waist left her speechless. Her fingers traced along the edge of one of the straps that held his prosthetic in place.

“I’m jealous of how close to you this is,” she breathed, wanting to be tight against him.

His gaze turned owlish. “What?”

“It won’t hurt it I touch you here, will it?” She wrapped her palm around where the metal of the prosthetic met his shoulder. It was cool and hard, a lot like him, actually.

“Uh, no.”

She slid her palm down to the metal, then traced a finger over the intricate design. “All of you is so…oh, bloody hell, I can’t even think. Fucking hot.”

Bucky’s growled a response she didn’t understand and dropped to his knees. Her lungs couldn’t draw in enough air as he hooked the fingers of both hands into the waistband of her knickers and pulled them off. He hunched down to untangle them from her feet, and she stroked his hair, marveling at how soft it felt.

Bucky turned his face up towards her, his expression unreadable.

“More,” she whispered, her fingers closing to tug at his dark hair.

He exploded into action, tossing her leg over the shoulder with the prosthetic and cupping her arse with that hand, pushing her up the wall until only the toes of her other foot touched the ground. She moaned. Those muscles of his weren’t just pretty, they were functional.

With the other hand, he pushed her thighs further open, then pressed his face to her pussy, inhaling deeply. Smelling her. He rubbed his cheek against her, his stubble rough against her smoothly waxed sex. It was dirty, wonderful, it made her feel like he wasn’t doing this because he felt he had to, or because he has some shag-checklist which included a little licking, he wanted to taste her.

Peggy wanted his tongue.

“Bucky,” she moaned, tugging at his hair. His tongue swiped over her folds, warm, wet, and perfect.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against her. “You taste divine.” He licked her with bold strokes that made pleasure coil tight in her belly. His tongue found her opening and he thrust it in and out while she mewled and arched into him. Her clit ached. Peggy used her grip on Bucky to direct his mouth to it. He flashed her a grin before lapping with strong flicks of the tip of his tongue. Wicked lips sucked at her nub, and he even bit her gently before continuing to lick. So good. The muscles behind her knees quivered and she came with a low moan.

The orgasm was a bolt through her, and she would have fallen if Bucky hadn’t surged upright and caught her. He picked her up and carried her into his bedroom. It was neat and plain, barely any hint of the man who lived there. Another movie poster from one of her films hung on the wall, but this one was abstract. If he wanked to pictures of her at least he didn’t leave them out in the open.

Buck set her on the bed. “I’m going to take my jeans off,” he said, watching her face.

“Please do.”

His zipper lowering sounded loud in the small room. He pushed down his trousers, leaving him in black boxer-briefs that did little to hide the jut of his cock.

“Condom?” she asked, breathless.

“Drawer.” He palmed his prick, pushing into his hand. Peggy lurched towards the bedside table and pulled open the single drawer. An unopened box of condoms sat there, and she hastily ripped the cardboard to nab one.

The expiration date was still good on it, though not far off. “Oh, good, lubed,” she said, rather pleased he’d been thinking of his partner when he’d bought them.

Bucky, all dark eyes and intense eyes, crawled onto the bed, his hand closing around her ankle. With a growl, he pulled her down the bed to him. Peggy snaked a leg around his hip and put a hand on his shoulder, rolling him over onto his back and settling with her legs straddling his thighs.

All hers. He’d said so, the impressive hardon tenting his shorts belonged to her. She dropped the condom beside them on the bed.

“I want all of you,” she said, her fingers skimming his abdomen. The muscles twitched under her light touch. There were scars. And hair that only sort of managed to stay in a treasure trail to the waistband of his shorts. It was real. No artifice. No spray-painted muscles or day of dehydration to give him definition. No guzzled soda to make veins pop. He looked delicious just as he was.

She curled her fingers around his waistband and tugged his shorts down to reveal his cock. It arched up, thick and heavy with veins standing out in high relief. Her mouth watered, but the clench of her sex felt more demanding.

Fumbling only a little, she ripped open the condom and rolled it on. Bucky’s hips lifted and he groaned. Strength, power, need. All hers. Desire made her moan. She rose up on her knees, positioned the head of his cock at her opening, and simply dropped down, taking the entirety of his cock inside her at one.

“Fuck,” Buck said, eyes wide.

Peggy bit her lip. The stretch and fullness were nearly overwhelming. She pulsed her pelvic muscles as her body adapted to the feeling. The very good feeling.

Bucky reverently placed his right hand on her hip, then slid it up to cup her breast. His left arm didn’t twitch where it lay on the bed, and she picked it up, bringing the cool metal fingers to curl around her hip.

“That’s okay?” he asked hoarsely.

“Feels good with how hot I am.”

“You are so hot,” he said without a hint of guile.

Peggy laughed, the sound becoming a moan as she slowly rolled her pelvis. Wow. She moved faster, riding Bucky, who groaned and plucked at her nipple. His hips rose a little, small thrusts that hit just the right spot to make her see stars while demanding nothing.

“Peggy,” he murmured. “Glorious Peggy.”

She ground against him, a second orgasm bursting inside her like an entire New Year’s Day fireworks show going off at once.

Bucky groaned and his thrusting sped up. His right hand retreated to hold her other hip, and his eyes fixed on her tits. The last shooting sparks of bliss had just faded when he gasped and bucked up hard enough to nearly topple her off him.

His cock jerked as he spent himself. Peggy stroked his chest until he sagged against the bed.

Pleasure still swirled through her, tickling random nerve ending, but it was over.

She hated that.

Hated that she couldn’t simply stay and lose herself in him while she found out everything about him. His favorite color, what sports teams he rooted for, how he liked his eggs.

Peggy could imagine telling him about her next project and what ones she was just starting to consider. He’d be excited for all of them. But he wasn’t a part of her world. She might as well live on the moon.

Buck anchored the condom, rolling to the side to strip it off and wrap it in tissue while she stared at the ceiling.

“Thank you,” she said when he flopped on his back beside her. “This has been an amazing evening.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Impossible. I like this real version of you. The you I see on the red carpet is amazing, but I like this you, that laughs at silly jokes and eats sort of okay Thai food.”

She rolled and set a hand over his heart. It beat steadily. “I like you too,” she said quietly. “But you know this is just now. I have to go.”

“I know.” He put his right hand, warm and callused, over hers. “I don’t expect anything. I just want you to know that you’re a hell of a woman. Thank you for making me feel special. And you know I’ll be there opening day for your next movie.”

She smiled. “I’d expect nothing less.”

* * *

Peggy sat in the back of the sedan as Jarvis drove her home. Rain turned the late-night Los Angeles streets into a series of blurred lights behind grey curtains of precipitation.

“Will you be seeing Mr. Barnes again soon?” Jarvis asked, tone annoyingly neutral.

“We said goodbye, and it’d never work. We’re from different worlds.”

There was a very quiet snort from Jarvis. “I asked you none of those things.”

Bucky didn’t expect to see her again. Or even hear from her, but he’d cupped her cheek as she prepared to walk out the door. Pressed his lips to hers in a goodbye kiss that’d felt more like hello. Like the start of something.

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

Jarvis nodded once. “Very good, Miss.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky’s morning cup of joy tasted different. The sunlight coming through his kitchen window glowed brighter than he ever remembered it had. The entire world felt better. More alive. Or maybe that was just him.

It’d been a glorious night. Peggy had surpassed any fantasy he’d ever had of her. She’d looked at him, all of him, and touched him. Hadn’t shied away from his prosthetic or pretended it wasn’t there. He sipped his coffee, shirtless and barefoot in his kitchen. Peggy had also been so much more than he’d expected. He wanted ten thousand more nights to learn everything about her. But that wasn’t about to happen, and while he might feel like a love-sick idiot, he wouldn’t bother her with his heart. She’d returned to the other side of the screen and he hoped he’d given her a few nice memories to take with her since she’d provided him with a lifetime’s worth.

Draining the coffee mug, he set it in the sink. His cell buzzed on the counter with a message from Nat offering a ride. Probably so she could tease him. That wouldn’t be stopping any time soon. Or ever. With a snort, he texted her back about being ready for the inquisition.

When Nat pulled her sedan over to the curb, Buck was ready for work with his regular prosthetic in place, a white t-shirt, and jeans with a hole in the knee. Another day in paradise.

“Hey,” Nat said as he got in the passenger side.

“Just ask.”

Her smile became predatory. “Good night?”

“Yeah, it turns out Peggy Carter plays a real mean game of backgammon.”

Nat threw her head back, shaking with laughter. Bucky almost asked her to keep her eyes on the road it went on for so long. “Nice try,” she finally said. “But it’s written all over you that you banged her.” He slumped in his seat. Damn. “Happy is a good look on you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.” He shushed Nat when her mouth opened. “I didn’t mess up,” he growled. “But we don’t run in the same circles. It was a nice fantasy for her like it was for me. We had fun.” He moved his tongue around his mouth as he remembered Peggy’s taste. “And I always knew it’d be a single evening. So I…I am happy.”

“Good.” Nat squeezed his knee. “If anyone deserves a win, it’s you. I’m glad you’re not moping.”

He shrugged. “I think she’d hate that. Peggy’s kind. And sure, I’d like more. A lot more. I could talk to her forever, make love for hours, laugh over inside jokes…” Bucky trailed off. He sounded like he was fifteen and had never been near a woman before.

Nat made a soft noise, and her gaze felt far too piercing. He made a show of studying the stoplight they were sitting at. She frowned at him, just a little, but he knew she wouldn’t stop prying if he didn’t answer.

“Fine,” he growled. “So I might be a little in love with her.”

Nat side-eyed him. “Just a little.”

“But I knew I would be after meeting her, no matter what happened. I’m good.”

“I’m here if you need me.”

“I know.”

They turned the corner onto the street where the construction site sat, and Bucky frowned. “Did something happen?” People milled around on the sidewalk or peered through the chain-link fence at the half-finished house. Many had cameras like they were journalists.

Nat pulled the sedan over, her face pale. “I think you happened.”

“What?”

She turned off the car’s engine and pulled out her phone. Her mouth pulled down in a frown. “Shit.” Ice traced down his spine. “I’m sending you links.”

His cell started pinging and Bucky pulled it out to open the articles she was sending. About him. And Peggy. Speculation about what had happened when they’d disappeared, everything from they’d eloped to Vegas to he’d dumped Peggy’s body in the Pacific.

“Fuck,” he said, with feeling.

“Do you want to go home?” Nat asked. “Call in?”

It was tempting. He could disappear until the public lost interest. Last night had been such a whirlwind, one he’d imagined only had consequences for his heart. He lived in L.A., he should have known better. “Let’s go,” he said at last.

“Don’t say anything,” Nat warned.

He shook his head. “Wasn’t planning on it.” He clicked the hook on his prosthetic open and closed. This should be fun.

They exited the car and walked towards the construction site. It only took a few moments before someone noticed him. Questions, many of them lewd, flew through the air. He ignored them all, as did Nat, though her glare sent a couple of the paparazzi stumbling back. The gate swung open as they approached and clanged shut securely behind him. The guy manning it grunted at Bucky, who murmured a thanks.

He trailed Nat to their lockers. The picture of Peggy taped to the inside of his made him forget what he was doing for a moment. Memories of her smiles and the heat in her eyes gripped him.

“Hey,” a rough voice called, and Bucky quickly grabbed his tool belt and hard hat before slamming the locker door shut. He turned around to face the guy, one of the site’s foremen.

“Am I back on the roof today?” Bucky asked.

The guy shook his head. “Project manager wants to see you in his trailer.” His lips pressed into a grim line.

Bucky nodded. “Yup, going.”

His phone beeped as he walked across the bare dirt at the back of the site, which would soon be an in-ground pool, heading for the trailer that served as a temporary office. An enterprising photographer yelled at Bucky from a tree that bordered the yard, but Bucky didn’t even look at the idiot, even when the sound of a camera clicking floated through morning air that’d just started to warm.

He hoped they got bored soon.

His phone chimed and he pulled it from his pocket to unlock the screen. The link Nat had sent made him stop dead a few paces from the trailer. It was an article that contained actual journalism. What a nice change, except that the words made his heart plummet.

The article started off speculating about him and Peggy, but this reporter had found some actual substance. The construction project Bucky was working, the mansion, occupied the lot that the Venice disabled teens’ house had once sat on. He was building the thing that had forced them out.

He felt sick. Nobody had told him, and he’d never thought to check. Only what could he do? He needed this job, he had to work. His own rent ate up much of his paychecks.

His blood turned to molten lava as he kept reading. The smug bastard of a reporter was trying to use him to tear down Peggy, saying that her being with him meant she didn’t truly care about the teens, Open Path, or charity in general. He couldn’t let that stand, and he couldn’t believe that the construction company hadn’t told them what they were doing.

Bucky wrenched the door of the trailer open. This meeting with his boss wasn’t going to go well.

* * *

Peggy combed out her hair, still damp from her post-workout shower. Most of her muscles were well-toned, but last night proved she had a few that needed more use. But only if a certain dark-haired man were involved.

Blast.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky.

His laugh, his touch, how he’d made her feel. Treasured. Like a person and not a commodity.

She padded out to the balcony of her home that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. Today the water stretched in a wide expanse of sparkling, calm, unbroken blue. She sat at the table, where her tablet rested.

Jarvis appeared a moment later with a tray he set in front of her.

More egg whites and a kale smoothie.

She picked up her fork to poke at the eggs. They’d be cooked to perfection and well-seasoned, but sometimes she really envied people who could have blueberry pancakes for breakfast. She glanced at the black coffee on the tray, wishing it’d morph into a nice cup of tea with sugar.

It didn’t. Bucky also didn’t miraculously appear to offer her more take away. Or a conversation.

Jarvis sat in the chair to her left.

“We’ve got a slight problem.” He gestured at the tablet.

Peggy opened it to find a scathing article, which had to do with Bucky working at the site of the large house under construction that’d taken over where the children’s home had been in Venice.

“Poor Bucky,” she murmured.

“Yes, well,” Jarvis said. “I think you’ve pulled him into a wee bit of a fiasco.”

“Bloody hell.” Peggy did her best not to let her anger show. She hadn’t been thinking of this morning last night. Hadn’t been thinking outside of the wonderful man she’d met and how he’d made her want so many things. “What do we do?”

Jarvis looked out to the ocean. “Not sure if I know. Might just go away if we ignore it.”

“I’m not ignoring it. This doesn’t involve just me.”

“I know.”

Of course, Jarvis knew that, but he probably couldn’t guess the feelings churning in her gut. “I need to fix this.”

“Of course you do.”

Damn him for sounding so judgmental.

“You know I wasn’t using Bucky last night,” she snapped.

“Do I?”

“Yes. I…I’m not allowed to feel…look, I’m going to make this right.”

Jarvis wordlessly handed over her mobile.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, standing up. “And could I possibly get some tea? I might murder someone if I have to drink kale this morning.”

A smile flickered over Jarvis’ face as he stood and picked up the tray. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Peggy walked to the rail, her eyes tracking a container ship that chugged through the water, leaving behind a churned up trail of white wake. She dialed Howard Stark.

“Good morning,” he said, answering on the first ring. “I’m guessing you need some help unscrewing the pooch?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m calling in a favor, we both know you owe me.” It was all ancient history between them, but she’d been holding on to this favor for a long time. “You’re equipping the Open Path house, yes?” Howard hummed an affirmative. “What about helping me cut through some red tape to get that project going today?”

“Lovely idea. I know just the man to call. ”

“The location I want to secure isn’t going to come cheap.”

“It’s your favor. I’m sure I will be able to do whatever you need.”

“I do hope…” she trailed off as Jarvis reappeared, no teapot in hand and a worried look on his face. “Hang on.”

Jarvis stood beside the rail, his eyes on her rather than the view. “Your suiter’s friend Natasha has just informed me that Bucky had a row with their boss, and is now fired. I thought you’d want to know.”

“You gave Nat your number?” Peggy asked.

“It seemed prudent. She is a bright woman and willing to assist me in keeping you, and Bucky, safe.”

That made sense. “Fired,” she murmured. Bucky didn’t have deep pockets, he needed his paycheck. He had to be devastated. All Peggy wanted to do was soothe him, tell him it’d be okay. “Can you bring him here?” she asked.

Jarvis nodded sharply. “Consider it done.” He left, and Peggy returned to watching the cargo ship.

She put her mobile back to her ear. “Howard?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m going to ask for another favor.”

* * *

“I nearly punched the jerk,” Buck said, pacing in his small living room.

Nat, sitting on the couch with her head tilted, gave a shrug. “Wish you had.”

“I punched the wall, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying.” The project manager had yelled about the paparazzi, but when Bucky had brought up pricing the kids out of their home, the guy had been smug about it. Smug. He hadn’t looked so self-assured after Bucky had put a hole in the wall, but had fired him.

No job.

It hadn’t even sunk fully in yet. Nobody would hire him for construction work after this. Not in L.A. Or San Diego, or anywhere. “What am I going to do?” he asked, fixing Nat with a glare. She looked so calm. She’d quit too, fighting through the photographers with him to her car, and then losing those that had tried to tail them. “What are we going to do?”

“Don’t know, but my apartment’s cheaper, you can sleep on my couch. We’ll make do, serving coffee or maybe we move to Florida for new construction jobs. I have contacts there.”

Natasha always had a plan.

“Thank you.”

She shrugged again. “You should probably go talk to your girlfriend first.”

“What? What girlfriend?”

“The one sending her assistant to pick you up right now. He’ll be here in five.”

“Peggy?” It came out high pitched. He’d never thought he’d see her again, let alone the next day. “What does she want?”

Nat’s brow raised. “Probably for you to lay more pipe, and Jarvis said something about fixing everything.”

“Why are you texting Jarvis?” None of this made sense.

“We share the common goal of keeping Peggy and you safe.”

“I…see.” Bucky didn’t, not remotely.

Five minutes passed in the blink of an eye, he barely had time to run a comb through his hair and dab on cologne. No time to change out of the battered prosthetic he had on before Nat shoved him out the door and Jarvis directed him into the backseat of a Bentley.

The car’s engine purred like a kitten and the leather seats felt butter soft.

“Miss Carter will be glad to see you,” Jarvis said. “And she apologizes for the rough day.”

“Thanks.” Bucky managed to control himself for three very long seconds. “Does she really want to see me?”

“Of course, she’s quite taken with you.” Jarvis eyed him in the rearview mirror. “I trust you know better than to hurt her. I know how to make a death look like an accident.”

Bucky slumped in his seat and dragged his hand down his face. “Not my plan.”

“Good, then we will get along well.”

Bucky didn’t ask why he and Jarvis would be seeing enough of each other to worry about getting along. Any answer would sound impossible.

Jarvis drove them through the city and up into the hills, which wasn’t a surprise. A huge gate clanked open while they waited, and it was another ten minutes before they reached the house. It was so huge Bucky was sure he’d get lost in the first five seconds.

He tried not to gape as he got out. Or think of the price tag.

Jarvis led him through the front doors into an echoing foyer, and then through another series of rooms. They stopped in front of a closed door. Jarvis opened it and gestured Bucky inside, closing the door behind him with a thud.

The room Bucky entered looked a lot more lived-in, with comfortable sofas sagging a little from use, and carpet that had wear patterns. The pictures on the walls were of people in candid poses, along with shots of London that looked like they were taken with an old disposable camera.

“Bucky,” Peggy said, entering the room from what appeared to be a balcony. She had yoga pants and a t-shirt on, her hair hanging unstyled around her shoulders. He liked it as much as the fancy dress from the night before.

He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Hi.”

For long moments they stared across the space between them, the air filling with possibilities. Then he took a step forward, or she did, Bucky wasn’t sure, and they collided in the middle of the room.

His arms went around her and he pulled her close, like he’d been missing her for years and not less than a day, though he only used one arm. He kept the prosthetic at his side.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured into his shoulder. Peggy felt good pressed against him. Real. Solid. Like she was meant to be there. Like she fit.

He stroked her hair. “For what?”

“For turning your life upside down.” She pushed back to look up at him. “I’m going to make everything better.” Conviction rang in her voice.

“You already have.” He cupped her cheek and lowered his lips to hers.

She made a soft, welcoming noise and kissed him back. Their tongues met and parted, only to meet again.

Peggy put her hand on his left shoulder, then slid it down until there was a tug at his prosthetic. He looked down to find she’d put a finger around the hook. Bucky let her raise his arm and pull it around her.

“That’s better,” she said, cuddling back against him.

Bucky held her for a long moment, until she turned her face up towards him and he kissed her again.

He never wanted to stop kissing her.


	5. Chapter 5

The whole world was rubbish if she couldn’t have this. She didn’t care that she hardly knew Bucky. That simply meant she had a lot to discover about him. If her instincts were wrong, she’d pay that price when it came due, but giving up his lips and his eyes and his everything because she might be wrong about him didn’t seem worth it.

Peggy curled her fingers into his dark hair. “Want you,” she murmured.

“Now?”

She pulled back from the kiss. “That’s not actually why I wanted to see you, but now you’re here…yes. Very much.” She could hardly think past the determined aching of her nipples or the throbbing of her clit.

“Thank god,” he said hoarsely, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt.

She stripped it off, leaving her in one of her plain white bras, as she walked towards her bedroom and its pink-sheeted unmade bed. Bucky followed. She pulled down her leggings and knickers, tossing them in the vicinity of her laundry basket. Her bra came off easily, and she cupped her tits.

Bucky stood in her doorway and gaped.

“Now you,” she prompted, spreading her legs to give him more incentive.

“I’m thinking I should just drop to my knees and worship you, goddess.”

“Save that for later. Naked now.”

Bucky pulled his shirt over his head one-handed, then off his prosthetic arm. His trousers and underthings followed. He straightened back up, his prick jutting proudly from between his legs. He raised a brow.

“Everything, including the prosthetic.”

He glanced down at his left shoulder. “I’m not sure you want to see.”

“I want you as you are.” She walked across the room to him. “You’re real and raw. You don’t hide from what life has done to you. I need that. This bubble I live in, sometimes all I can see is the perfect surface that’s presented to the world. I need you to not be part of that. And I think you’re perfect, just as you are. Every scar.”

Bucky blinked as she stopped right in front of him. She put her hands on his chest and slowly knelt, dragging her hands down his body as she went. He groaned and braced his hand on the doorjamb when she fisted his cock.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but she interrupted. Of course she didn’t have to.

“You have no idea how much I want your prick in my mouth.” Her tongue darted out to lick the head of his cock, and she swayed in sheer joy as the musky, male taste of him filled her mouth. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked him between her lips, bobbing her head and working herself further and further down his shaft.

Her tongue traced the thick vein on the underside, making him shudder.

A thud to her right made her open her eyes. His prosthetic lay on the floor. Peggy smiled up at him, her mouth still around his prick. Bucky cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her face. “I think I’ve had this dream before,” he said roughly. She sucked hard and very briefly touched her teeth to him, to make sure he knew this wasn’t a wet dream.

His thighs tensed and he groaned.

Peggy let his cock go, admiring how it shone with her spit. She straightened up as high as she could on her knees while palming her breast and using her nipple to tease the head of his prick.

“Fuck,” he barked, his hips thrusting. “I’m not going to last if you…oh  _ fuck _ .” Peggy put her hands on either side of her tits, pushing them together to trap his cock between them. Her spit soaking him let her slide her breasts up and down his shaft. He made a strangled noise.

“You can come,” she said. “Then take care of me. There’s no law we have to come at the same time.”

Bucky nodded eagerly and thrust again, his prick sliding between her breasts. He only pumped a half dozen times before coming. Warm semen washed over her throat and trickled down her breasts. She pushed a finger through it, bringing to her lips while Bucky sagged against the door frame, panting hard.

“Goddess,” he managed to croak out.

Peggy grinned and rose, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. “My turn,” she said softly, pushing him to lie down. Bucky collapsed onto his back, his head on her pillow.

He turned his face into it. “Smells like you,” he said with a sheepish as she knelt beside him.

“I’m sure it does.” Peggy teased her fingertips over his lips, letting him peck them, before dragging them down his throat, over his chest, and up to his left shoulder to cup the stump of his arm. His eyes followed her actions, staring at her hand before darting to her face.

“Is it okay?” he asked.

“Of course, it’s you.” A raised scar lined the rounded end, and the skin was rough, probably from the prosthetic. “Does it hurt?”

“Once in a while I get phantom pains, but none in the stump itself.”

“Can you feel me?” She squeezed softly.

“Yes, not right on the scar.” He shrugged the shoulder. “Your hand is soft, and warm…thank you. I don’t even usually look at it.”

“I understand.” She did, everyone had imperfections they wanted to pretend didn’t exist. “But even if you don’t, or can’t, I get to love this part of you.” She squeezed the end of the stump again. “It’s mine now. I’m the only one who sees it. Dibs.” She bent down and licked up from the end to his shoulder. It was silly, perhaps, but Bucky looked like someone who needed silly. Needed to laugh.

The corners of his mouth turned up. “How can I tell you no?”

“You can’t.”

He chuckled. “You win. Now tell me how I can make you feel good.” He stretched, pointing his toes, his entire body inviting her to play. But she wanted his mouth.

“I was thinking of riding your face.”

His eyes went wide. “Stop thinking and just do it.”

Peggy tugged the pillow out from under Bucky’s head. She straddled his head, grabbed the headboard, and slid her thighs apart.

“Out of all the days I’ve been fired,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “This one is really the best.” His tongue stroked her, and she gasped as pleasure flared. “It certainly tastes the best.”

Bucky’s arm curled around her thigh as his tongue lapped and flicked over her labia and clit. There was a brush against her other leg as he used his stump to encourage her to spread her legs just a little bit more.

She let her head drop back, her hips rolling as she raced towards orgasm.

It broke over her hard. She yelped in surprise, then groaned with the bliss.

“That’s one,” Bucky said, pride in his voice.

“How many are you going for?” she panted.

“Until you tell me to stop.”

Peggy smiled. “Then get back to work.”

“Goddess.”

#

Bucky yawned. It’d taken him forever the day before to remember to ask Peggy why she’d had him brought to her house. He’d been preoccupied. The most amazing woman in the world had dragged him to bed and then made him stay there with her.

He’d thought sometimes, while he’d been lying in a military hospital bed, his mind hazy with the pain, that he must still be alive for some reason. That reason had to be that he’d been destined to love one Peggy Carter and make her come over and over.

When he’d remembered to ask about her reason for bringing him, she’d mumbled something about needing to fix everything and that she had a plan. That plan had led them to sitting in the backseat of the Bentley, Jarvis driving and Nat in the passenger seat, scrolling through her cell.

Waking up snuggled with Peggy had been amazing. She had tucked herself against him and asked for five more minutes when the alarm had gone off. He had never wanted to get up. Now she pressed her leg against his.

“Bucky,” she said softly, and he leaned towards her to hear better. “I’ve been thinking.” His stomach dropped. Those were never good words. “And I really, really want to make this work between us, but my life isn’t always my own.”

He grunted. “Don’t worry. And stop overthinking it. This you, at home, with me, that’s my Peggy. You have to go do things, be away, spend time on location to film. That’s movie Peggy Carter. I like her. She’s amazing, but she’s not mine. I’ll wait until my Peggy can come home.”

She fisted her hands. “You understand I’m going to have to kiss people on camera? Have sex scenes. Act like I’m in love with them.”

“Well, I’ll just have to kill those people and have Nat hide the bodies.”

Peggy’s mouth dropped open.

Natasha turned in her seat. “What am I doing?”

“Hiding the bodies of people I kill.”

“That’s all? No problem.” She faced the windshield again.

Peggy frowned. “You’re teasing me.”

“I should think so. And movie-Peggy does what she has to for the job. I’m not going to get jealous of what you do on camera.” At least he thought he wouldn’t. He probably wouldn’t know until it actually happened.

“Not even a little?”

He knocked his knee against hers. “Probably a little,” he allowed. “Then I’ll just have to show you who you belong to.”

Peggy considered this. “I’m going to have you on set for every love scene I have to do. Jarvis, did you hear me?”

“Noted, and we’re here.”

The Bentley glided to a smooth stop behind a flashy high-end sports car that sat in the middle of the street. The door opened and a man stepped out, giving a wave at the car. Cameras clicked.

It took Bucky a moment to recognize the man as Howard Stark. Peggy opened the back door and Bucky couldn’t quell his irritation as Howard gave Peggy a hand to help her out of the Bentley. It turned into flat out jealousy as Howard didn’t let go of her, instead tucking her hand around his elbow like he was escorting her. Bucky got out of the car, still wearing his clothes from the day before, and slammed the door behind him.

Jarvis gave an exasperated sigh.

Peggy glanced at Bucky, giving him a small smile and rolling her eyes in Howard’s direction.

The photographers snapped away but didn’t get too close with Natasha glaring at them.

The gate opened to admit them and shut with a clang. The guy manning looked completely star-struck as Peggy thanked him. The little group moved further into the lot. Bucky frowned at the frame of the huge house. It looked like nothing was happening. No sound of hammering or saws, just a few raised voices from the back of the construction site.

“This way,” Howard said, waving a hand. Nat stuck her tongue out at his back before coming to walk beside Bucky.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “He can fall down a well any time now.”

Bucky snorted. “I think he always acts like he owns the place.”

“I’m sure. It’s a good thing looks can’t kill because otherwise, Mr. Stark would be in a pine box.”

“I’m sure he has a gold lined coffin waiting for him.”

Nat laughed softly. “Don’t actually be mad at Peggy, even she has to dance to his tune to get what she wants, and she set this up.”

“Set what up?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

He switched from glaring at Stark to glaring at Nat. “No.”

Nat’s answer was an enigmatic grin.

Their little group rounded the corner to find the construction crew standing in front of the trailer. The project manager, a weasel of a man with a perpetually red face that had now darkened to nearly purple, yelled at the assembled workers to return to their duties before they were all fired.

“Not if we’re not going to get paid,” hollered a tall worker in a hard hat. Bucky took a moment to recognize him. Silas worked concrete. He could make a pathway dead level with neat edges like nobody else.

“You’ll get your money,” the manager screamed. “It’s just a computer glitch. I’m locked out of systems this morning. I’ll do payroll when I can.”

Unease rippled through the crowd. Bucky frowned. Shit. He hadn’t even checked to see if he’d been paid after being fired. Rent would be due soon, February was a short month. Most of the people here had people depending on them and needed their checks even more than him. Not having a roof over his head would be one thing, he couldn’t imagine not being able to feed your kid.

“Don’t worry,” Howard called, letting go of Peggy—finally—to cup his hands around his mouth. “You will all be paid on time.”

The workers turned to face him. “You sure?” Silas asked, crossing his arms.

“I am, I just purchased this site and the construction company you work for. Please allow me to introduce myself.” He bowed slightly. “Mr. Howard Stark. You may have heard of me.”

“Well, shit,” Silas said, which seemed to be the general statement. Bucky fought a sigh. Of course Stark would actually own the place.

The purple-faced project manager sputtered. “What?”

“Oh,” Howard glanced at him. “You’re being reassigned. Better get back to the offices.” He turned towards Bucky for the first time as the manager quickly scurried off. “Mr. Barnes…you know, that name sounds familiar.”

Bucky held up his left arm. “Veteran assigned one of your fancy prosthetics.”

“Which you’re not wearing.” Stark narrowed his eyes.

Peggy poked his chest. “They’re so bloody expensive do you think someone who works around construction equipment would want to risk it?”

“I guess not, though you could always get another one if something happened.” Howard waved a hand, obviously dismissing the topic. “Anyway, as a favor to Miss Carter, I would like to offer you the position of project manager. You would have insight into the tech and accommodations needed for these teens.”

“Project manager for what?” Buck asked, even as his heart sank. The last thing he wanted was to be in charge of anyone besides himself.

“Ah, I guess I should explain that. This site is being recreated as a home for disabled children and teens, outfitted in Stark technology. Blueprints are being worked out as we speak. Actually, they probably won’t be done today. Everyone has two days off, paid.”

The workers eyed each other and quickly made for the locker room before Stark’s mind changed. Something uncoiled in Bucky’s chest. He’d been a small part in getting that done. He’d wanted to support the charity when he’d bought the raffle ticket, and while that money wouldn’t have gone far, because he worked here and because he’d, well, hit it off with Peggy, now the kids were going to get a fabulous new home.

And hopefully, he’d get Peggy. Man, that was twenty bucks well spent.

There was only one problem. “Mr. Stark, I appreciate it, but I ain’t the kind to lead. Wasn’t in the army, and that hasn’t changed with me wearing civvies. But my friend here, Natasha Romanov?” He tilted his head towards Nat. “She’d be great. And I can consult.”

“Perfect,” Peggy said with a nod. “And I have a project for you at my place.”

Natasha grinned. “Do I have a say in this?” she asked and Howard nodded. “Then yes, please let me see the blueprint changes now.”

Bucky chuckled as Howard immediately moved to obey. Nat just had that effect on people.

Peggy walked over, eyes bright, to take his hand.

“What am I working on at your place? I know you could use a Pergola or two, and a retractable awning on your balcony—”

She leaned in close. “Have at that, but I was really just going to ask you for some nailing.”

He barked with laughter and pulled her close. “If that’s the case, then I’m at your service.”

From somewhere nearby, Jarvis heaved another heavy sigh.

***

Peggy stood at the railing of her balcony, half-full champagne glass in hand. A stiff breeze blew, mussing her hair and giving the waves white caps.

The only boat visible was a twin-masted sailboat that glided lightly over the water.

“It’s cold,” Bucky grumbled, sliding his arms around her waist. “Come back to bed.”

She tilted her head back against his shoulder, draining the glass. She probably didn’t need any more, her latest movie had just wrapped and she had a solid three weeks of being at home with Bucky. In their eight months of being together, he’d shown her what he’d meant what he’d said, never complaining about what she had to do for her career. Though the three pergolas scattered around her garden, all built while she’d been filming on location and needed to focus, said that he did miss her and had a few nerves to work out. How he had time to build them around all the volunteer work he did helping teens adjust after suddenly finding themselves in need of a prosthetic, she had no idea. 

“It’s time for another love scene,” he whispered in her ear, the hand of the Stark Industries prosthetic gently gripping her hip.

“Mmmm,” she agreed, her eyes on the ocean. “I want to see the finished home soon. It feels like we did a lot, but it’s hardly a drop in the bucket against all the problems of this world.”

Bucky brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. “It’s wonderful, the kids love it, and you should see the size of the TV.”

She liked bringing joy to people. “I didn’t really do anything,” she said. “They’ve all got lives to live and a big telly isn’t going to change that.”

“No,” he nipped her earlobe and her belly warmed despite the salt-scented chill of the air. “But you can’t fix everything, and you don’t have to try to. You used what you have to make life a little better for someone. That’s all any of us can do. One person, one smile, one day that’s not as bad as the one before it.”

“That’s very deep.”

“I’ll show you deep.”

Peggy laughed and turned in his arms. “Well, hurry up.”

Bucky grinned. 


End file.
